


Sweet Dreams

by Sira



Category: Major Crimes (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 07:46:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3319610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sira/pseuds/Sira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andy is there for Sharon after a particularly hard case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ufp13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ufp13/gifts).



> All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Thanks so much for picking out my mistakes, ufp13! :D You rock! So much. All remaining mistakes are mine. 
> 
> Oh, this story was written for ufp13. She wanted something for the prompt 'coffee' but my muse went along a strange path. Sorry, dear.

Blood. Too much blood. Even after a few decades as a cop, she couldn’t quite shake the momentary feeling of sadness while looking at the lifeless body of someone who had lost his life before his time. It was worse when it was someone innocent of any crime and hard to bear at all when it involved a child.

This time, the victim was a four-year old who had tried to stop his daddy shooting his mom in front of the house, getting himself killed in the process.

It was as clear a case as they came. Sharon didn’t expect the truth to be anything other than that, but still it had to be investigated, a report to be written. That was standard procedure for every case, there were no exceptions from the rule. But with the father being a famous rock singer and the mother a well-known actress, they better made sure to dot every i and cross every t as both the press and Taylor would be riding their combined asses until they had.

Sharon liked her job, always had, even when she was still head of FID. She wanted to stand for those who couldn’t defend themselves. Still… on days like this, she wondered if she shouldn’t have opted for a career in law after all.

Hands in the pockets of her trench coat, she walked around the pitiful small body to where part of her team was assembled. Provenza, who was talking to Sykes and Buzz, looked up when she approached. She could see in his eyes that he disliked being here as much as she did, although when he spoke, it was in the gruff tone he always used.

“So far, the story holds up. Flynn talked to the husband, Sanchez is talking to the neighbours so we can confirm they had an argument, and the medics gave green light for a brief interview with the mother.”

“What kind of sick jerk tries to shoot his wife in front of his son?” Sykes asked, her voice cracking just a little.

Sharon reached out, touched her upper arm lightly, locked gazes with the younger woman. “There are no answers. I wish there were, but there aren’t. All we can do is see to it that we put the father in a cage, so he won’t have access to weapons for a long, long time.”

They would try at least. There was no accounting for court decisions. Money could buy you the very best lawyers, professionals who would try to turn anyone’s words into something they weren’t. The thought almost made her as sick as the sight of the child had.

Sharon turned around slightly to where a sobbing mess of a woman was sitting in the back of an ambulance, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. How could any parent stand the pain of losing a child, especially in such a way? Sharon knew she’d continue to live if it was one of her own children, but a part of her would have died forever.

“Thanks, Lieutenant, I’ll go and talk to the mother now.”

She gave her team a half-smile, squaring her shoulders before moving over to the ambulance van. As if sensing her approach, the woman looked up, a world of misery in her eyes, and Sharon felt her mouth go dry. As a mother, she didn’t want to prod her now, to dig into a wound so raw it burned and took your breath away, but as a cop, she knew she had to get a statement as soon as possible.

“Why? Why?” the woman wailed when Sharon reached her.

Sharon could only shake her head. “Ms. Simmons, I’m sorry to disturb you right now, but…”

“Why? My son is dead. He shot him. This asshole shot him. He wanted to shoot me. This fucking drug addict took my son. I want him to die.”

She sobbed, bowing her head, a thick mass of hair obstructing the side of the woman’s face.

Sharon curled the fingers inside the pockets of her coat into a fist. Some days, she really hated her job.

***

“Let’s get going.”

Turning at the voice of Andy Flynn, Sharon needed a moment to process his words. She was tired beyond words, even though dawn was just breaking.

“Pardon me?”

“There’s nothing left to do here, Captain. It’s time to leave.”

Looking around, she saw he was right. While the crime scene technicians were still working the scene, the body had been transported to the morgue an hour ago. The mother was at the hospital, the father in custody, initial statements had been taken. Most of the team had left half an hour ago while Sharon had spoken to Taylor.

What was it about this man? She knew he had kids, hated scenes like that one as much as they all did. Still, part of his brain was trying to evaluate how this would influence his career. Would the media’s attention be good for the LAPD, for him or not? It was with that in mind, he had discussed the case with Sharon, and it disgusted her.

“You’re right,” she acknowledged.

She smiled at Andy, something that came way too natural these days. He was a valuable part of her team, was there whenever she needed him. He was a good friend, too. And on days like this one, everyone needed a friend.

When had that happened, anyway? She distinctively remembered a time when his eyes had narrowed at the sight of her, when she had sighed loudly when she realized she had to deal with Andy Flynn again. Times had changed, and so had they. Relationships were seldom stagnant, and theirs had moved into an entirely positive direction.

“You should go home and get some sleep,” she said.

He shook his head. “No. And don’t tell me you’d go home and nap now.’”

She wouldn’t. Her plan was to have a shower and head over to work. Or maybe she’d take a shower at the LAPD’s gym. She had a spare set of clothes waiting for her at work just for such an occasion.

“Then I won’t,” she answered him. “Anyway, you should…”

He held up a hand. “Captain… Sharon,” he said in a quiet tone. “You wouldn’t be able to sleep, and neither would I. This case…” He ran a hand through his hair, looked miserable in a way she hadn’t seen before. It was hard on all of them, but he was a father, too. His relationship with his children might be a rocky one, but she knew he loved them no less despite that. “Anyway, I thought about breakfast, and I know the diner serving the best breakfast in all of L.A. Why don’t you join me?”

Her first thought was to tell him no, that she couldn’t even think about eating anything. But she would need to eat something at some point, to replenish her energy, and if she was honest with herself, she could do with the company.

They had shared dinners before. She had accompanied him to his daughter’s wedding. They were friends, at the very least. If there was a certain spark, a certain interest between them, she mostly chose to ignore it. If there was anyone who knew what was against the rules and what wasn’t, it was her.

Her disjointed thoughts showed her more than anything else could that the night had been too long.

“Okay,” she finally said, returning the slight, sad smile on his face.

“I’m driving,” he said.

She shook her head no. “I’ve got…”

“Your car here, I know. But you look exhausted, and I would hate if something happened to you. Let’s get some food, some coffee, and I’ll drive you back here afterwards.”

It meant an unnecessary detour; still, she couldn’t quite disagree with his reasoning. She was tired, her nerves were frayed, and although she had driven her car in this state more often than she cared to admit, she liked the thought of not having to worry about focusing on traffic right now.

God, what had happened to the woman who solely relied on herself, had learned the hard way that others might not be there for her when she needed them? It wouldn’t hurt if she allowed someone else to be strong for her for a moment, would it? They were only having breakfast together. Afterwards, she would take care of herself again.

“Come on, Sharon. I won’t bite. I promise.”

Too bad. The thought all but had her wince. 

“I know you won’t. So let’s get going.”

There was something in his gaze, an impish look that was gone almost at once, was replaced by the tired look of before.

“You sure you want to drive? We could call a cab,” she suggested.

“I’m fine. Focusing on traffic will help me not to think of… this.”

His car wasn’t parked far away, and soon, they were on their way, morning traffic still light. They were silent, both lost in their own thoughts, Sharon looking out of the window, yet not consciously seeing a thing. It was one of the good things about Andy Flynn: silence between them seldom was tense.

“What kind of father would drag his son into such an ugly mess?” he asked after a while. Turning slightly, she saw how hard his hands gripped the steering wheel. “Don’t answer that. I’ve been a cop for long enough to have seen cases similar to this one more than once. Still… Normal people want to protect their children at all costs.”

Again, there were no words. There was nothing anyone could do to make this right.

“When my daughter was little, I worked a similar case,” he continued. “The mother had killed her daughter with a pillow. Getting home that night, I sat down in front of my daughter’s bed. I just watched her sleep, watched her breathe.”

“I once did the same with mine.”

They shared a look before he focused on the traffic again. As different as they were, they understood each other. In spite of herself, Sharon closed her eyes, felt sleep tugging at her. With effort, she opened her eyes again. Her body had to wait for rest a bit longer. For a while, she would keep the nightmares waiting to happen at bay.

“It’s okay, you can sleep. It’s going to be another ten minutes.”

“No, I’d rather not.”

“Afraid you’d snore?” he asked, taking the light road.

“I don’t snore.”

“They all say that.”

Sharon snorted. “I forgot, with your reputation, you would have the statistics on women snoring down pat.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s not as bad as it’s supposed to be.”

“What is? The statistics on women snoring or your reputation is worse than reality provides for?”

“Hey, someone’s got to stop Provenza from thinking he is the LAPD’s leading ladies’ man.”

They shared a smile.

“You know, everyone needs something to believe in,” she said softly.

“True. Never mind, he married often enough to know better. Did you know his second wife’s name is Sharon?”

“No, I didn’t, but I know I had nothing to do with it.”

He chuckled. “If you had, this would have ended in murder. But I thought it might explain the problems he had with you. At least a little.”

‘Had’ was the operative word, a fact Sharon was glad for. She didn’t need Provenza to respect or like her to be able to work with him, but it made things easier for sure.

Andy and she made more small talk, everything was good for as long as it didn’t mentally take them back to the crime scene. Sooner than she had expected, Flynn parked on a rather small parking space, in an area she wouldn’t deem safe at night. She gave her companion a dubious look.

“Yes, I’m sure this is where I wanted to go.”

“If you say so.”

“I do. There’s a reason this is Los Angeles’ best diner and it’s not swamped. Have a little faith in me.”

She had. More than a little.

They got out of the car, entering a small diner with ten tables max. Everything looked unassuming, not following any particular style. The tables were made of dark wood, the floor consisted of white tiles and the art on the walls was a mixture of everything that was bright. Strange was the word coming to mind.

They were the first customers, and a woman appeared the minute they had sat down.

“Andy, good to see you.”

The waitress looked like she was in her seventies, her most interesting features being the white, unruly mob of hair on her head and her impish smile. While her clothing, mostly in brown and beige, spoke grandma, the way she carried herself did everything but… Sharon who had always been fascinated by stark contrasts, in art as well as behaviour, studied the woman who had thrown her a smile but was now fully focused on the man in front of her.

“Molly, good to see you, too.”

“You look tired, boy.”

Sharon grinned at the flicker of frustration on Andy’s face. She guessed it wasn’t often someone called him ‘boy ’ these days.

“I am. Long night. Tough case.”

Molly nodded, turning to Sharon.

“You were there, too, huh? The shadows under your eyes look like war paint.”

Usually, Sharon would have bristled at such an observation, thinking it irrelevant but Molly was just stating a fact, neither pitying her nor insinuating anything else.

“Yes, I was.”

“She’s my boss,” Andy said with his trademark smirk.

Molly looked from him to Sharon and back, her eyebrows trying to vanish in her hairline. “Your boss…” She mock sighed. “Andy Flynn you’re always asking for trouble, aren’t you?”

Andy lifted both of his hands. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He did know as well as Sharon who chose to ignore the insinuation. This was not the time or place to even think about what should not be and in fact even quite wasn’t – yet – between her and her subordinate officer.

“Of course not, darling. Of course not. Anyway, how about you let me take care of breakfast, and until it’s done, I’ll get you some coffee?’”

Sharon wanted to speak out but Andy shook his head.

“Trust Molly. She knows what she’s doing.”

It was against her every instinct to have someone else decide for her what she wanted, but she trusted Andy. After a long moment, she conceded with nod.

“Thanks, Molly,” Andy said. “And coffee would be lovely. Sharon takes her with cream and one sugar.”

“Does she now. Okay, I’ll be right back.”

For no reason, it hit Sharon how well Andy seemed to know her by now. They were all cops, all were observant in general and with each other, but if asked, she wouldn’t be able to tell anyone how most of her team liked their coffee. Andy liked it black, with two or three sugars, rather three if possible. But Tao, Sanchez or Buzz? 

It was the small things that meant you knew a person, paid them special attention, knew how they liked to spend their free time, what kind of flowers they liked, vegetarian or not, how they liked their coffee… What else did Andy know about her?

“Sharon?”

She realized she had zoned out and vowed to pay better attention to her companion from now on.

“I’m sorry, I was… lost in thoughts.”

Before he could question her, Molly was back with their coffee, Sharon receiving hers with a smile. Cradling the hot mug in her hands, the fragrant smell as reviving as it was soothing, she let her ice-cold hands absorb the warmth.

“Thank you,” Andy and she said in unison which had Molly snort. At least, she didn’t comment on it as she went back to preparing breakfast. The door to the diner opened, a family of four entered. Molly knew them as well and hugs and kisses were exchanged.

“Molly makes a point of knowing her customers. Apart of the food, I think, that’s one reason most of us come back time and again.”

“How long have you known this place?”

He smiled. “Twenty-five years. Molly has seen me at my best and my worst.”

Sharon remembered his worst. Although they hadn’t worked together at that time, they had run into each other occasionally. It had been mostly aggressiveness that had radiated off him back in these days. It was a far cry from the relaxed if a bit sad and tired man who sat opposite of her now.

“So Molly runs this diner alone?”

“Yes. She used to run it with her husband, but he died two years ago. Since then her three sons help out whenever they can. They suggested she sell it, but she’s not ready to retire. A bit like Provenza if you ask me.”

“Does Provenza know this place? Maybe we could introduce them.”

Andy chuckled. “He does. And I told him to keep his hands off of Molly. She deserves better than him.”

They chatted a bit more until Molly was back with their breakfast. For Andy, she had the scrambled eggs and mashed potatoes, for Sharon a fruit salad and a croissant. Additionally, she put down a basket with bread rolls, butter and marmalade.

“If you’d rather…,” Molly said.

“I like it,” Andy said.

Sharon agreed. “This is wonderful. Thank you.”

She had underestimated Molly. “You should be a cop. We need people who are quick studies.”

“God beware. My brother was a cop. He died when he was just shy of thirty. When my sons were old enough to contemplate their careers, I told them they could do everything for as long as they didn’t become a cop. In that case, I’d have shot them myself. Anyway, enjoy your breakfast.”

With that, she left in a flurry to see about her other customers.

“Definitely one of a kind,” Sharon remarked.

“Told you I love this place.”

When she reached for her fruit salad, began to eat, she realized she was hungrier than she had thought she was, her stomach grumbling loudly at the first bite. Andy didn’t fare much better, and for a while, they ate in silence. 

When she was finished with her salad, reached for the croissant, she looked over at her companion. “Thank you.”

“What for? You needed to eat. I needed to eat. With cases like that one, we always think we’re not hungry, that we don’t need to sleep when, in fact, we do. Mistreating our bodies means we burn out before we know.”

“Who would have known there’s such a reasonable side to you,” she teased even though she agreed.

He smiled, shrugged. “I learned my lesson the hard way.”

There were many things flitting through Sharon’s mind, but she uttered none of them. 

The road they were on was fraught with so many landmines, she should run fast from this man whenever they were not talking shop. They both came with personal baggage, there was the interdependency of their jobs to consider and with Rusty living with her… she really had enough to worry about. Yet, his presence calmed her, she was glad to know he had her back, his smile, a bit boyish, a bit rogue caused butterflies in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t resist him, and she knew he couldn’t resist her.

As she reached for the jam the same moment he did, their hands touched fleetingly, their gazes meeting. Sparks flew, and they couldn’t pretend they weren’t aware of their reactions to each other. Andy cleared his throat, gesticulated for her to go ahead. She did, annoyed with herself for wishing the contact had lasted longer. Sharon didn’t mind being single, preferred it to a relationship in many ways, but sometimes she wished there was someone to hold her, to enjoy the soothing effect of someone touching you, to feel their warmth, hear their heart beating. For what seemed an eternity, she had bagged this feeling, but once out of Pandora’s box, it was almost impossible to contain. She longed for human touch, the touch of the man opposite of her. 

This morning after a gruelling night with no sleep, she stared truth in the face, was unable to ignore her feelings. She wouldn’t voice them, couldn’t, but she knew sooner or later this should be addressed before they’d face a violent explosion of feelings. Unbidden thoughts of finding herself in a passionate embrace with her companion had her blush slightly and focus on her meal as if it was the single most important thing in her life right now.

Both didn’t speak a word for the remainder of their breakfast, and Sharon had just sat back when Molly came over, offering a refill.

“Good, at least you’ve got some colour back into your faces.”

“Your breakfast works magic, Molly,” Andy said.

“Smooth talker.”

The older woman rolled her eyes, turned to Sharon.

“Is he that way all the time?”

“In the office, he usually behaves,” Sharon replied.

Molly looked from one to the other, making Sharon wonder what she saw. Finally, she said, “Well, I won’t ask about after office hours then,” she said, walking away.

“Stop it, Molly,” Andy called after her. “And could you bring us the check.”

Molly turned.

“Andrew Flynn, I’m too old to be fooled by anyone and breakfast’s on the house. Now the two of you should get some rest if you ask me.” She looked at Sharon again. “I hope I’ll see you again, dear.”

It had been some time since someone had called Sharon ‘dear’.

“I’m sure you will.”

Molly left with a satisfied nod. 

Sharon turned to Andy who looked rather apologetic. “I’m sorry, Sharon.”

Sharon looked at him for a long moment. “Don’t be. She’s not quite wrong, is she?” It was as much an admission as she was willing to make.

“No, she’s not.”

To her surprise, he reached out, one of his hands interlacing with hers. His hand was broad, strong, yet soft, and his thumb began to stroke the back of her hand. Emotion welled up in her, and she bit down her bottom lip to contain it. She expected him to let go quickly, but he didn’t.

She spoke before she could think twice, letting impulse reign over her better judgement. Had she been more rested, she might have resisted, but she wasn’t. “How about dinner some time?”

He smiled. “Sure. I’d love to. Just let me know where you want to go.”

She shook her head. “I’ll cook. Rusty’s planning a sleepover next week, and provided that there’s no urgent case, I…”

“Yes, I’d love that,” he interrupted her.

There it was again, the flutter in the pit of her stomach. His gaze was warm as was his smile, his hand in hers. Temptation had never felt that secure.

The door of the dinner opened, two noisy teenagers barging in, breaking the moment. Andy let go of her hand.

“Ready to go?”

“Yes.”

She took another sip of her coffee before getting up. He followed her example, and they left the diner.

He held the door of the car open for her. She got in, and he closed before rounding the car, getting in himself.

“Will you go home now?” he asked.

“Do you want me to lie?”

He started the car.

“No. But…”

“Forget the but. We both know that I’ll have to go back to work. And you wouldn’t want to see me after a night or morning with too little sleep anyway.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” he said, a twinkle in his eyes.

She lightly slapped his arm. “Believe me, it’s not a pretty sight. Anyway, it’s a clear case, we should be able to mostly close it within the day.”

“Okay, then let’s get back to work.”

“No, you will…”

He threw her a quick glance before he focused on the road. “You didn’t think I’d be able to go home now, did you?”

If she were honest with herself, she hadn’t, and somehow, she was glad she wouldn’t be alone. Thinking about it, she wouldn’t be surprised to find some of the others at work, too.

What if someone saw them arrive together? They only had had breakfast. That was not forbidden, was it? The true sin lay in her mind, in what she wanted, not in what she had done. She sighed quietly, and before she knew it, his hand was covering hers again.

“Why don’t you close your eyes a little?” he said as he had earlier. “With that traffic, it’ll be at least half an hour.”

She wanted to protest, even though she knew he was right. Where was the harm if she closed the eyes just for a few moments? She waited for him to withdraw his hand, but as earlier, he didn’t. She could get used to it. With a smile, she let her eyelids fall shut.

“Sleep. Just a little.”

She didn’t intend to, just wanted to rest a little.

“Sweet dreams,” was the last thing she heard before exhaustion pulled her under. 

Maybe, with him holding her hand, her dreams wouldn’t be too bad after all.

The End.


End file.
